


Starfucker

by gryffindorJ



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accents, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Cross-Generation Relationship, Crushes, Kilts, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Sexual Fantasy, Size Kink, Touching, spag bol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ
Summary: "Big" is the word that comes to mind when James thinks about Oliver.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [torino10154](https://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/gifts).



James's first memory of Wood was that he was _big_. James was six at the time and he thought the sun shined out of Oliver Wood's arse. (Some things would never change.) 

The Montrose Magpies had just won the league, for the second year running, having no little part to do with Wood's skills at Keeper. James had heard from a group of boys down in the village that Oliver Wood was going to be at Quality Quidditch Supply that Saturday signing autographs. James had begged and begged his dad to take him. 

Harry took James and stood in a queue that went out the door and down the street. More than one person had approached them and asked Harry for a photo, autograph, or even just shake his hand. Today James couldn't be bothered with these people who normally irritated him. The only thought he could spare them was wondering why they bothering with his dad – who’s favourite Saturday activity was eating Weetabix on the couch while watching telly – when Oliver Wood was in the vicinity? 

The front of the line was roped off so that only one group could approach Oliver Wood at a time. When James and Harry were let through and came around the corner, James saw him for the first time. Only one word entered his mind: shoulders. 

Oliver Wood was in a black t-shirt with Magpies emblazoned in white across the chest. The shirt was so tight it looked like it should belong to James, not a full grown man. His long arms looked even longer coming from sleeves that were stretched to the breaking point across his round his biceps. James could see that Oliver Wood's chest and stomach were one long, hard, flat surface. He wasn't paunchy like a lot of grown men James knew. Uncle Ron came to mind. 

Oliver Wood looked up at them and the look of resigned boredom – which creased his brow making his brown eyes droop at the corners – suddenly melted. He was out of his chair and bounding towards them in an instant. "My God, Harry, what the hell are you doing here?" James looked at his dad waiting for his reaction. Loads of people talked to Harry like they knew him; Harry was always polite but distant. James's mouth dropped open in shock as Harry shook Oliver Wood's hand and then pulled him in for a back thumping hug. 

"How are you Oliver? That save on the far hoop during the last minute of the match was amazing," Harry said as he stepped back. 

Oliver Wood. James's dad knew Oliver Wood. 

"Nothing that any other Keeper wouldn't have done," Oliver Wood said modestly. "Did you wait in line? What the hell for?" 

"Oliver, this is my eldest son, James." Harry put his hand on James's shoulder and pushed him forward slightly – James hadn't realized till now he was hanging back. James was clutching his Magpies program, posters and Quaffle to his chest and he almost tripped over his scarf which was far too long for him. 

Oliver Wood looked down at James and smiled warmly. He crouched down to James's level and suddenly he didn't look big and imposing, he looked kind and gentle like Uncle Charlie. "You a Magpies fan, James?" Oliver Wood said reaching out and giving James's scarf a tug. James who was never at a loss for words was at a loss for words. He gaped as he nodded. 

"Your parents have done a fine job with you then. Thought maybe you have been taught to be a Harpies fan."

At this James found his voice. "I don't like girls," James said and it made Oliver Wood laugh.

"Good lad," Oliver Wood replied and for the first time James heard the lilt of his Scottish accent. "Well," he said straightening up. "Did you come to get my autograph? Better get to it, the manager is giving a nasty eye." 

Oliver Wood and James's dad chatted as Oliver went through all of James's items and signed his name in neat straight strokes of the quill. He told James that Harry was the best Seeker he'd ever seen play. James was shocked by this revelation that Harry and Oliver Wood had played together more than anything else. It wasn't surprising James's dad was good at Quidditch, James's dad was good at everything. 

As they finished up Harry told James to shake Mr Wood's hand and thank him. "It was my pleasure James," he said enveloping James's hand in his large, warm, soft paw-like grip. "Don't wait in line, Harry. Next time owl me. I'll send over some posters, tickets if you need them." 

"Really Oliver it's okay. James wanted to do this," Harry said with a half smile. "It's exciting for him." 

"Thank you for waiting," Oliver Wood said with another smile at James. "We'll see you at a match then?" 

"Yes!" James shouted. "Any of them. All of them" 

Oliver Wood chuckled and Harry put his arm on James's shoulder ushering him out. 

They walked out of the shop and James was bursting with questions, "You played with Oliver Wood? Was he brilliant even then? Was he captain? I bet he was captain. I'm going to be captain when I'm on Gryffindor's Quidditch team." 

"Yes," Harry nodded at James. 

"I can't believe you know Oliver Wood. Wait till I tell that prick Thomas you know him. That will shut his fat face." 

"Jamie," Harry said. "Don't say prick, it's a rude word." 

"I know dad. You called Mr Widget that the other day though. I heard you." 

"Did you have a nice time?" Harry said changing the subject. 

"It was brilliant! Oliver Wood is amazing." 

Harry hugged James to his side and said, "Good. I'm glad. Yeah, he's a good bloke."

***

'Big' did not come to mind when James saw Oliver Wood this time. Anyone looked quite small from way up here, but James could still tell it was him down there with the manager and assistants.

"Oi! Potter!" 

James whirled around just in time to duck a Bludger coming his way and caught the poorly passed Quaffle. 

James knew Oliver Wood was going to appear at some point. The National Side had announced earlier in the week that Wood was going to be serving as a special advisor. The idea of Wood watching him play made James a little anxious. It wasn't every day someone you completely worshipped as a kid came to watch you play a game that you both loved. James hoped he wasn't the only player nervous at Wood's appearance, but looking around he thought he had to be. James was the youngest on the team and most of the players had either played or worked with Wood before. 

When practice ended James landed as far away from Wood as he reasonably could, but then decided that was stupid. He strode up to Wood extending out his hand, said, "I'm glad I never have to face you when I play." 

Wood took his hand laughing and said, "I was just thinking the same about you, Potter." 

James forgot to feel flattered by the compliment. Wood's voice had driven every thought from his mind. A nice deep tenor, which would be good no matter, but his accent melted around James making him forget they weren't the only two there. 

The handshake lingered a little longer than was normal, allowing James the time to also notice that he was right; Wood was no longer as big as his memory supplied, but he was still quite fit. They were close in height, Wood maybe a bit taller, but wasn't as broad as a typical Keeper – probably because he was no longer training every day. James had met a lot of former players, many of whom had allowed themselves to become very round in their retirement. James almost complimented Wood on how nice he looked but quickly bit his tongue. 

He felt his cheeks flame with the thought though and coughed awkwardly as the handshake ended. James did his best but he couldn't stop watching Wood as he chatted casually with the rest of the team. James thought that Wood sometimes looked like he was only talking to him, but James told himself it was only his ego telling him he was too attractive not to look at. Too bad James's cock didn't get the message. He left the pitch trying his best to walk normally and make sure his robes billowed in front of him, hiding his magnificent boner.

***

'Big' was precisely the word James thought of as he pressed a sure hand against the front of Oliver's trousers. Not only big, but really big. And Oliver wasn't even fully hard yet. James had been achingly hard and ready to go the moment they got out of the Muggle cab.

Both slightly tipsy, Apparating wasn't an option. James had also suggested a cab, loving the anonymity the Muggle world could give them. He half-hoped as soon as they were out of sight they'd start snogging like they had in the loo of the pub, but James didn't attempt it. He didn't want to hamper the trip to Oliver's place in anyway. Oliver's hand did stay on James's leg the entire 20 minute ride. His long fingers making James cock harden as he gently stroked James's inner thigh.

Oliver pressed his hips to James, pushing him against the wall the minute the door was closed. The oil lamps flickered to life in the small but neat entrance hall where James pulled Oliver in for another kiss. The kiss was hard, almost sloppy but erotically-so. Oliver's left hand went to the buttons of James's shirt while he pressed the palm of his right to James's cock. 

"God," Oliver breathed. "You're so fucking hard." 

"I'm close. More," James said thrusting his hips into Oliver's hand. 

Oliver made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan as he moved James sideways so he was sitting on a small side table. James wrapped his arms and legs around Oliver doing his best to grind their hips together. 

"I'd plans," Oliver said undoing James's belt. "But I'm not sure..." 

"Tell me," James said his breath catching as Oliver flicked open the top button. 

"I want," Oliver began as he pulled down James's zipper. His voice so quiet making his accent all but vanished. "I want to put your arms over your head so you can't touch yourself as I eat your arse." 

The 'R' in arse came from the back corner of Oliver's mouth went straight to James's cock. 

"Jesus," James muttered to himself not because Oliver had just pulled back the waist of his pants, but more at the wonder how Oliver's accent undid him so completely. 

Oliver circled his thumb around the head of James's cock which was leaking freely. 

"Make me come," James said rocking up into Oliver's touch. "Make me come and you can have whatever you want." 

Oliver smiled in a way that would've been wicked had he not looked so delighted by the prospect and quickly got to his knees pulling James's jeans down with him. 

Oliver could have stroked him off, maybe just rub up against him till he came – James expected as much. He didn't expect for Oliver to wrap his lips around his cock and suck almost to the base. The surprise of Oliver doing that felt almost as good as Oliver's mouth wrapped around him. 

Oliver pulled back, dragging his tongue up the underside of James's cock. Blinded by the sheer desire to come _now_ James grabbed the back of Oliver's head and slammed his hips forward, coming hard down Oliver's throat. 

For a moment, James thought Oliver sputtered in surprise, but caught up quickly swallowing James eagerly. 

"Fuck me," James muttered as Oliver swirled his tongue around the crown of James's cock before sitting back on his heels. 

"It's the idea," Oliver said reaching for James's jeans and pulling them off all the way. 

Oliver rose from his knees, James stood pulling him close. "What are you going to fuck me with?" James asked before pressing his lips to Oliver's in a deep kiss. 

"My tongue, maybe," Oliver replied licking a path across James's lips. 

"I was hoping for this," James said and boldly grabbed Oliver's large, hard cock. Oliver groaned rocking into James's touch. James started undoing Oliver's belt and flies, anxious to see what he was in for. He slid Oliver's trousers and pants down over his narrow hips revealing possibly the biggest cock James had ever seen. 

"Jesus," James muttered. 

"Still want it?" Oliver asked. He sounded confident enough, but his soft brown eyes betrayed slight hesitation, as if he'd been told no before. 

"You're joking," James said looking Oliver square in the eyes. "I've been fisting myself daily hoping this would happen." 

Oliver's eyes went wide and his face flushed as a puff of a laugh escaped from his mouth. "We can't waste that." 

Charmed by Oliver blushing James pulled him in for a long, hard kiss. Oliver slid one hand to the base of James's head and the other to the small of his back, pulling James closer deepening the kiss. He then pulled away mouth pink and swollen, James wanted it wrapped around his cock again. 

"We...can't...here," Oliver said his breath short. "Bedroom." 

"After you," James said with a nod towards the door. 

Oliver held his trousers up with one hand as he turned to open the door. James brushed a hand across Oliver's arse stepping close to him. More lights flickered on as they crossed the threshold. Oliver's house was not sleek, modern, almost cold like a lot of players had. Oliver's taste looked warm and inviting, a squashy sofa, comfy arm chairs, an exposed brick wall. James was immediately reminded of his dad; though Harry could be a right mess and Oliver looked to be fairly tidy. 

"This way," Oliver said leading James to a small set of stairs. Oliver reached behind him taking James's hand as they walked up. Another lamp lit as they stepped into a larger sitting room and dining area. Oliver turned to lead James up another set of stairs. 

"You're joking, right?" James said lightly. 

Oliver looked over his shoulder smirking. "You'd prefer the table?" 

"Depends. How many more stairs?" 

"Handcuffs are up there." 

James brushed his tongue to Oliver's ear. "Use your wand." James snaked a hand around Oliver's waist grabbing his cock. Oliver's back stiffened as he let out a small groan. He brushed James's hand away and turned, pushing James backwards towards the table. 

"Honestly?" James said with a grin as the back of his thighs hit the edge. 

"You insisted," Oliver said pushing James down onto it till he was lying on his back. "Besides, it's my favourite place to eat. Spread your legs." 

James put his feet flat to the table canting his hips to expose his entrance. Oliver put one knee on the table and James was grateful the table wasn't some IKEA shit. It seemed like it could hold their combined weight though James did wonder for Oliver being a single bloke why the table was so long. James had a momentary pang of jealousy thinking Oliver could've just been making it up and fucked men on this table all the time. James reminded himself no right to be possessive of Oliver and maybe it was as innocent as the table fit the space well. The table could be a metaphor for Oliver's dick; long and sturdy. 

Oliver placed his large hands on top of James's knees, pausing for a moment, and stared down at James. James wriggled uncomfortably, not because he didn't think he stood up to such an inspection – he was quite fit – but he wanted Oliver's hands to slide lower, stroke his inner-thighs, finger his arse. 

"Hands above your head," Oliver said with a flick of his head. 

James smirked not sure if he should listen and do exactly as Oliver said or be difficult about it. James moved one arm over his head and met Oliver's eyes. 

Oliver licked his lips and said, "The other as well." He traced one hand down the inside of James's leg to his entrance but stopped. 

James's cock began to stir. God, he wanted Oliver, and he put his other hand up, stacking his wrists above his head. 

"Good lad, keep them there." James's breath caught in his chest at the word _lad_. God, no one sounded as good as Oliver. 

Oliver sat back on his heels and pulled off his soft grey jumper. James reckoned Oliver looked good with his kit off, but actually seeing the strong arms the firm chest was something else all together. James felt a little like an arse marvelling that a man Oliver's age still looked that good. He didn't have a washboard stomach, James would've been a little disappointed if he had. The small layer of softness in the middle showed James that Oliver enjoyed a pint or two, didn't take himself too seriously. Besides, the way his trousers were tented showed James he was completely hard in the place that mattered most. 

Oliver untucked his knees, lying prone on the table, inches from James's entrance. James whimpered in anticipation and rolled his hips forward trying to meet Oliver's mouth. Oliver's warm breath tickled across James's sensitive skin, making gooseflesh rise, and he shivered with desire. Oliver muttered something indistinct as he held either side of James's arse in large, deft hands and spread it open with his thumbs. The flat of Oliver's tongue was on James's entrance quicker than James expected. He hissed and thrust as best he could to meet the touch. 

Oliver made long slow passes of his tongue linking up toward James's balls, he then circled the entrance softly before placing small delicate kisses on it. James felt like every nerve ending in his body was on fire and he wanted Oliver's mouth on every inch of his body but also wanted it to never leave his arse. Oliver stopped far too quickly and looked up at James. He saying something, but James didn't catch it at first. He was too distracted by what sort of 'punishment' would happen if he touched his straining cock. 

"Huh?" James said lifting his head to look at Oliver more clearly. 

Oliver grinned, "I thought...you said...you've been fisting yourself for me." 

James couldn't help but laugh and dropped his head back to the table. "Haven't done this in ages. Actually." 

Oliver's eyes went wide and James saw his body tense. "You have done this though, haven't you?" 

"It's not my usual," James admitted, though he didn't want to. He wanted Oliver's dick filling him, every last long thick inch of it. "I'm more than up for it though," James said lightly trying to encourage a seemingly hesitant Oliver. 

"I'm bigger than you maybe realise." 

"Prove it," James said with a grin showing more confidence than he felt. 

Oliver shimmied out of his trousers and once again stood on his knees. He put his hands on his hips letting his cock show in all its long and thick glory. Merlin fuck, he was _hung_ and Merlin fuck, James wanted him more than before. 

"Eat my arse like you said you wanted to," James said, spreading his legs as far as they would go. "Then you can fuck me balls deep like I want." 

Oliver moved lightning fast with a strength that James always imagined he'd have. He spread James's cheeks wide as his mouth found his entrance licking and sucking at it. His broad shoulders rammed into the back of James's legs as he tried to push his face in deeper. He moved his hands from James's cheeks and gripped him tightly at the waist. James grabbed the edge of the table behind him as Oliver pulled him again and again into his mouth. James wondered vaguely how Oliver could even breathe; he seemed so deep in his arse. 

Oliver's tongue breached James making him cry out, "God!" James's back arched off the table as pleasure coursed from his arse to the rest of his body and back. It was good Oliver had blown him already; he would be coming by now, if he hadn't. James balled his hands into fists, keeping himself from touching his cock. For some reason who would never articulate he wanted Oliver to be pleased with him. 

Oliver moved back from James's hole and wiped on the back of his hand. "Your knees," Oliver said breathless. 

"Hard to get up with my hands like this," James said wiggling his fingers. 

Oliver didn't find his cheek amusing this time. "You can move now, I give you permission. On your knees, I need to fuck you." His mouth looked stern uncompromising, but desire in his eyes was clear. 

James rolled over getting on his hands in knees, practically waggling his arse for Oliver. 

Oliver reached around James with one arm and pulled him up so he was standing on his knees. Oliver pressed hard behind him, from chest to James's back to his thighs pressed to the back of James's and everything in between. 

"I need to fuck you hard." 

"That's exactly what I want," James replied, but thinking of tomorrow's match. Oliver's dick pressed from James's crevice to the small of his back; there wasn't a cushioning charm in the world that would make a broom more comfortable tomorrow. James spread his legs and arched his hips showing he was ready. He wanted Oliver's dick in him for as long as he thought about a dick in him and nothing was going to stop him now. 

He felt Oliver grab his cock and position it to James's entrance. He gently pushed the head in and held James tight with his other arm, gripping his chest. 

"More," James whispered. He breathed deep, willing his muscles to relax to take all of Oliver. James felt Oliver tense behind him and he steadied his whole body as Oliver slammed into him. "Fuck!" James cried out. 

Oliver thrust sharply twice more, then stilled. "Looked at that," Oliver whispered in James's ear. James turned his head, following where Oliver was looking. 

He was a little dizzy, his body trying to decide if this was more pleasure or pain. He looked to the right to a bank of windows across from them that James hadn't noticed, being otherwise occupied. James took a steadying breath, trying to be comfortable as Oliver's cocked stretched him. Slowly their reflection swam into view before him. It sharpened as he took another slow breath. He could see everything from his flagging cock to the dips in the muscles of Oliver's lovely arse. 

"You see that?" Oliver said, rolling his hips. "My cock, is all the way in you." 

"I feel more than see it," James said and slowly began to ride Oliver as he became certain this was pleasure. 

"Oh fuck, yeah, like that." Oliver's eyes closed softly as James moved on him in a slow smooth pace. "I've needed someone like you," Oliver murmured to James. "Someone strong, who can take all of my dick." 

"Wait till I take it down my throat," James replied his confidence returning as his enjoyment increased. 

"You want that next?" Oliver asked. 

"Or you can come on my face and lick it off me before you blow me again." Oliver groaned and slammed into James. James couldn't help but smirk; he hit on something Oliver obviously liked. "Fuck my arse, hard. Then you can use your come to jack me off and lick us both clean." 

"You're filthy," Oliver said, thrusting faster into James. 

"You don't even know," James said, moving in time with Oliver, giving him back as good as he gave. 

Oliver wrapped a hand around James's now hard cock. "Fuck I'm close. Are you?" 

"Not yet," James said moving Oliver's hand away despite ready to come everywhere. "Fill me first." 

Oliver held James in a tight, bruising grip as he slammed into James over and over, throwing his head back and crying "Jesus fuck!" as he came. As Oliver's heat filled him, James grabbed the head of his dick, trying to stop himself from coming. Oliver had hit that brilliant sport perfectly so that James didn't need to be touched to come.

James pulled forward and rolled onto his back, smearing his pre-come all over his chest. Oliver looked down at him, chest heaving, cock still glistening and erect. 

Oliver dropped his mouth to James's cock again, which would have been more than enough for James, but Oliver cupped James's balls with one hand and slid two fingers in James's arse with that other. 

"Don't stop!" James said as he thrusted into Oliver's mouth and back into his hand. Oliver's fingers, slicked by the come in James's arse moved deep in James. He twisted, or curved them or did something just right, hitting that spot again. James's body stiffed as he came so hard his head was light and he didn't think there was anything left of his body but cock, balls and arse.

He pulsed over and over in Oliver's mouth, until finally he was spent. He sprawled onto the table as Oliver gently removed his fingers and licked James's cock clean. 

After one last swipe of his tongue, Oliver sat up and swung his legs around so he sat on the edge of the table, back to the windows. James smiled sheepishly as Oliver looked over his shoulder at it. With come in his arse, some on his chest, legs splayed wide; James was sure he looked like the most debauched thing ever served on this table. 

"Want to come upstairs?" Oliver said, sliding from the table. James sat up and swung his legs around to take Oliver's spot. Oliver looked at James eyebrows raised expectant. 

"Er..." James scratched the back of his neck and looked away. Now that James wasn't thinking with his cock, it felt slightly odd to be here. He liked Oliver, a lot. He didn't let any bloke have his arse – James was more of a top – but it was hard sometimes for James to forget how much he had adored Oliver before he even met him. That was Oliver Wood though, star Keeper. The man before him wasn't exactly that anymore. He had become more than some boy's fantasy, he was a person, a person James liked a lot. 

Picking up on James's hesitation Oliver quickly said, "Or you can sleep in another room if you're too pissed or whatever...I can call a cab..." 

James felt like a complete dickhead. Clearly he had made Oliver feel like he had been too forward. 

"No...it's not..." James said hating himself for saying what he was about to say. "When I was six years old you signed an autograph for me." 

Oliver chortled as he said, "That makes me feel old." 

"Shit! No, that's not what I meant," James said standing from the table. "You're sexy as hell and I never thought of you as old, not once. I think I've wanted you for a really long time." 

"You think?" Oliver said his lips curling into a smile. 

"Well, I wanked thinking about you but I was fourteen, I wanked about a lot of people at fourteen." 

"I'm lost." 

James winced and shook his head, and without looking at Oliver said, "Even before I knew you, years ago, I...when I was thinking about you..." James coughed, letting a small gesture with an open fist complete the sentence. 

A silence fell between them and James could barely look at Oliver to see what he was thinking. When he dared one glance up and saw Oliver was looking rather pleased with himself. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but you're not the first person to tell me that." 

James glared at Oliver and shoved him in the shoulder but solid as he was, he barely moved. "I'm not some fucking fanboy!" 

Oliver grabbed James's hand and pulled him close, still openly amused. "It's not a big deal. We've all got fantasies and some come true, hopefully the reality doesn’t disappoint." 

James gave a reluctant nod. He really didn't want Oliver to think this moment was mere wish fulfillment. He liked Oliver now for different reasons, new reasons, real reasons – not all centered around Oliver's impressive cock. Honest to a fault, James boldly looked at Oliver and said, "It's not all about the fantasies. I do genuinely like you."

Oliver smiled again in that sweet way that made James's chest ache slightly. "I don't tell everyone I want to tie them up. I like you too, James, and I might have wanked a time or two thinking about you." 

A little competitive flash went through James and he said, "I thought about you this morning in the shower." 

"And what brought that on?" Oliver asked tracing the back of his hand down James's stomach. The awkwardness of the conversation melted away and James felt heat rise in his body again. 

"You wore those dress robes with the kilt and I..." 

Oliver leaned in very close, the tip of his nose brushing James's. "If you'd like," Oliver began in a whisper, his hushed accent rolling over James making his skin prickle, "you can come up stairs. I'll put on the kilt, you can show me how you wanked." 

James laughed softly. "I think I can manage that."

“Oliver?” James said and Oliver paused in his step as he led James up the stairs. He looked at James over his shoulder, smiling warmly. “The reality doesn’t disappoint.”


End file.
